


nothing satisfies me but your soul

by izzygone



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Gun Violence, M/M, Oral Sex, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Pyromania, Sadism, Violence, literally straight up premeditated murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzygone/pseuds/izzygone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rovinsky serial killer AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing satisfies me but your soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what it says on the box. Blood, sex, violence, murder, all that stuff. Just keep that in mind before you read!
> 
> Title from Oh Death by Jen Titus.

Their first victim had been their Latin teacher, and it’d been an accident. Well. Mostly. 

There was a gun involved, and forcing him to his knees in the middle of field they’d just set on fire. But _death_ hadn’t really been the end game. Sure, they’d tied him up and gagged him, but they’d probably have released him if the fact that he started to bleed when Kavinsky pistol whipped him hadn’t made Ronan so fucking horny he needed to take K’s cock _right there and then_. As it was, they’d only just made it out of that place alive themselves.

And Barrington Whelk had been a dick anyway.

* * *

Their next victim was one of their best friends and an accident it had decidedly _not_ been. The truth was this: since the incident with Whelk in the field, when he’d been bleeding and watching Kavinsky fuck Ronan hard and without mercy, they’d been itching to do it again. They discussed it all the time. Ronan would take K in his mouth and listen as Kavinsky detailed plans and plotted out victims and locations and made lists of tools and everything they’d need in order to _get away with it again_.

Prokopenko was their first real victim because he was just _so damn easy_. Like a fucking pitbull who did whatever his owner wanted because if he didn’t, he knew he’d get kicked.

And Proko was a fighter, too, could really take a punch if it came down to it, and that’s what made it fun. They’d found the perfect place for it outside of town, by the abandoned fairgrounds Kavinsky purchased under a fake corporation’s name. He’d brought in a hydraulic excavator, too, and created an elaborate story about construction and buildings going up. Nothing new was built yet, though. They were too impatient to wait. 

They tied Proko up in a gritty, graffiti-covered cinderblock room. It’d been bathrooms before, when the fair was still up and running, and only one wall was clear of fixtures and available for their use. Proko fought the bonds, and that was so much more satisfying than Ronan had ever imagined. He watched as K brought his fist to Proko’s face over and over. First he cracked Proko’s nose. Then punched him so hard in the eye, his screams could have been heard for blocks -

If they’d been anywhere else but the middle of fuck all nowhere, surrounded on all sides for acres with abandoned fields and forests. K was gonna gag him but Ronan begged him not to, he liked to sound, wanted to hear it from his knees, wanted it to be the background noise as he sucked Kavinsky off, and K continued to beat the living shit out of one of their very best friends.

The floor of the once-bathroom was filthy, not just with dust but with the dirt everyone who came here before them and Ronan felt so good there on his knees.

Eventually, Proko stopped screaming and Kavinsky put all his focus into fucking Ro’s mouth, watching a trickle of blood slide down Proko’s cheek as Ronan slurped down come. 

After, they took out two folding chairs and sat, gazing upon the fruit of their labor.

“We probably shouldn’t kill him,” Ronan said, and, though it was the truth, he didn’t really mean it.

“We have to, now that he knows.” 

“Yeah,” Ronan’s breath was ragged and he was palming himself at the idea, “How're you gonna do it?”

K grinned, leaned over and kissed him, “How do you want me to do it?”

Ronan bit his lip. He didn’t want it to end so soon, but they’d been there for a while, and they still had to dispose of the body before heading back to Monmouth Manufacturing for Noah's party tonight. “You know I like fire…” Ronan trailed off. Kavinsky nodded and kissed him again, vicious; they both knew another fire would garner too much attention, but it was fun to play with the idea. “What else did you bring?” He gestured in the direction of the duffle lying next to their chairs. The only think Kavinsky’d taken out of it had been a pair of brass knuckles he’d practically gutted Proko with just before he went mute. 

Kavinsky grinned and tugged it over, the contents shiny and new. There was nylon rope, a saw, a butane torch, a collection of unique and exciting knives. Ronan deliberated then chose a box cutter and a flathead screwdriver. Kavinsky kissed him again, “First, I’m going to mark his pretty little face. Then I’m going to put _this_ ,” He gestured with the screwdriver, “Through his lung. _Then_ I’m going to fuck you over this chair.” Ronan’s responding moan was savage, like it was _his_ lung about to get punctured.

K took the box cutter to Proko’s face, and Ronan pulled his cock out and rubbed it as more and more blood started to stream down Proko’s face. The blood was joined by tears and the screaming resumed and then dissipated as Kavinsky trailed the razor across more and more skin, just lightly until it reached Proko’s shirt. He used the blade to remove the inconvenient bit of cloth and that’s when Proko started sobbing. It was a disgusting sound, coming from a boy of Proko’s strength and size, and Ronan’s cock twitched in his fist. Proko had been asking when they started _why? why?_ and resumed it again now, though they’d given no answer at all since they started. They hadn’t even spoken directly to him, just to each other in voices heavy with lust.

K looked back at Ro, an eyebrow raised, _now?_ And Ronan nodded, inching his seat just a tiny bit closer to watch it happen. Kavinsky raised and stabbed with a single fluid motion, like he’d been practicing it all his life.

The sounds Proko made weren’t words anymore, just wet, gasping noises as his lungs struggled to fill with air.

Ronan wondered how long it took someone to die from a punctured lung.

He guessed he was about to find out. 

K turned back to him now, a filthy smirk across his face. His hands were smeared with blood, and Ronan longed to have them on him. He stood and moved behind the chair, bending over so he could still see Proko, gasping, struggling to escape his bonds and slowly sagging against the wall. 

Ronan had his jeans down before Kavinsky even reached him and wiggled a little in impatience. K brought one blood cover hand down on Ronan’s ass and Ronan didn’t try to stifle the hot moan it pulled from him. He’d keep that bloody handprint on him as long as K let him.

Kavinsky took his cock out and fucked right into Ronan’s awaiting hole. They’d prepped way before this – as they ironed out the plan they’d use to get Proko out to this abandoned spot without anyone knowing, as they discussed where they’d bury the body and where they’d hide the car. Ronan was loose and keening as Kavinsky started pounding into him. They both watched Proko’s slow demise through lust-lidded eyes.

The answer to the question of how long a person can survive with a punctured lung is this: longer than it takes Ronan to get off on the idea. Longer, too, than it takes Joseph Kavinsky to fuck a load of come into Lynch’s willing hole.

In the end, they get bored after they’ve both gotten off and K slits Proko’s throat with the razor blade. Then they pick up everything and dump Proko’s body in a hole they'd dug about 15 feet from the building where they’d killed him. Then K used the excavator to knock the whole fucking building down. 

They showered together at Kavinsky’s place and fucked in the blood-muddy water as they washed the evidence away. They were still late to Noah’s party, but fuck was it worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, so I'm still the-real-izzygone on tumblr, and I'm always down to discuss this pairing.


End file.
